


Darkened Sun

by KR Grim (KR_Grim)



Category: Golden Sun, World of Darkness - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, World of Darkness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-09-12
Updated: 2011-07-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KR_Grim/pseuds/KR%20Grim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reposting of a story I'd done once before. Rating applies to later chapters and is mostly a pre-emptive warning in case things get gory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aleph's Vale

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on transferring the characters of Golden Sun into the World of Darkness universe, © White Wolf Publishing. The characters are all different things, so... I'll leave it to you to figure out who's what. Golden Sun is © Camelot, World of Darkness is © White Wolf Publishing.

Chapter One: Aleph's Vale

A pair of people walked up to the customs counter. The girl had blue hair, and stood at almost five feet eight inches — and she didn't have shoes making her taller. Her blue eyes were full of worry as she handed the TSA official her passport. Standing next to her was a short young man, blond, barely five six, with purple eyes. Their passports identified them as Mia Krupin and Ivan Reed, respectively. Mia was dressed in a flattering blue dress, while Ivan wore a suit and looked quite dapper. "And where are you headed?" asked the TSA official who was standing at the security station checking their passports to make sure their visas were up-to-date.

"Aleph's Vale, Minnesota," said Ivan, displaying a thick Oxford accent. "And we'd like to get there as quickly as possible, my good sir."

"Of course, of course," said the TSA official, handing back their passports. "Everything looks in order."

"Thank you," said Mia quietly, her Russian accent thick, and tinted with a slight amount of French. "Let us go, Ivan." Ivan nodded, taking her toward the terminal. As soon as they were out of the TSA guard's presence, she switched to Russian. "Which concourse do we take?" she asked. Ivan looked around.

"That one," he said, speaking in Russian as well. "Leads to our flight to Minneapolis, and from there it's a short flight to Aleph's Vale."

"I certainly hope so," said Mia, and Ivan placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "The passports are still in order, yes?" Ivan nodded.

"Of course. And the visas," he said. "Of course, since we're traveling within the US from here on…" Mia smiled at that.

"Then they won't check?"

"We're in the country legally," said Ivan. "They have no reason to check anymore." Mia nodded, slightly more assured. Ivan's words were a comfort to the woman, and he could tell without looking at her mind that she felt more comfortable with the faked passport. Ivan smiled as well, and continued down the concourse. "So what's in Aleph's Vale that's so important?"

"Well, the Mysterium is concerned with something there, won't explain what. We're being sent to check it out, make sure everything is good." Ivan nodded, switching back to English for the man at the coffee shop. "Two capppucinos, and a biscotti, please," he said, smiling at the man.

***

It was Saturday, and in Aleph's Vale that meant the VFW, all four of them, got in uniform and went to feed the birds. They were so predictable you could set your watch by them. Ten AM, bird-feeding. And at a glance, they were all there. Carl had been sick with a cold last week, and Burt had been hospitalized with pneumonia the week before.

But if one looked more closely, they would notice, leaning against a tree, a fifth face that blended in with the other veterans, a uniform that didn't look any more wrinkled than theirs, a young man who was nonetheless feeding the birds, and hung on the periphery of the conversation. Still, he was hard to pick out from them, because he looked like he belonged. His cane certainly looked like it belonged. And his brown hair looked just ruffled and worn enough to fit in with William's premature greying and scar from a grenade exploding near him in the Gulf. William looked at the fifth man, standing against his tree. "Felix," he said, nodding. Felix nodded back, tossing a few crumbs to the birds. "Leg still acting up?"

"I doubt it'll ever stop," said the young man, still leaning against the tree. "Then again, that's what happens sometimes."

"True, true. Nasty scarring. How'd it happen again?"

The real answer was something Felix could never actually say, so he went with a lie again. "Buddy of mine stepped on an anti-tank mine. Blew him sky high. Thank God it only got my leg." William nodded. The two younger veterans always seemed to hit it off quite well.

"Girlfriend still doing all right?" asked the older of the two. Felix nodded.

"She's just fine. She'll probably be bringing some lunch by later." Felix looked up at the sky. It was early November and it still hadn't begun snowing; by Aleph's Vale standards, the snow was late. Still, Felix didn't mind; winter was a busy time for him. As he looked up at the sky, a few snowflakes began to fall. He sighed and placed a hand on his cane, throwing the rest of his bread crumbs onto the sidewalk. Fortunately, there weren't many.

As if by divine coincidence, a young woman, pale-skinned with wiry red hair, walked up to him. Felix saw her as she truly was, a maiden of ice and snow, and she saw him for what he really was, a gaunt soldier with a machine-leg, altogether too thin. Felix embraced her gently. "Good morning, Felix," she said, smiling.

"Karst," he said quietly, holding her close. Felix could hear William snicker.

"That's about your one defining feature, eh, Felix? Apart from your limp." William laughed a little harder. "My wife doesn't do that to me anymore. If I want a hug, it has to be my girls." Felix smiled sadly at William.

"Still, it's not a total loss," said Felix. William chuckled and went back to his conversation with the other normal veterans. Felix stood, holding Karst around the shoulder and watching the snow fall.

***

"Nah, nah," said a tall college student, hulking over his two friends, a good foot and a half taller than the red-haired girl at his side and over a foot taller than his other friend, a blond man wearing a yellow scarf. The tall one had red hair with a white streak in it and a shirt that said "UM AV" on it. "I'm just saying," he continued, "that Felix has been pretty jumpy lately."

"Can't understand why he'd be jumpy, though," said the blond. "I mean, unless it has something to do with me and Jenna."

"No," said the girl. "You're fine in his eyes. I've seen it too, he's begun drifting away." The red-haired boy nodded. "And he kinda seems afraid of your dog, Isaac."

"Hey, he's not my dog," said Isaac. "He's Garet's. I just take him for walks sometimes." The tall man nodded.

"I'll believe it when I see him and Garet together." Isaac sighed. "Anyway, Garet, I think it's because he got turned down at Grad School. Something about a lack of original ideas for research. Kinda struck me as odd, I mean, he used to be really good at coming up with original ideas for stuff."

Garet shrugged. "Turned down wouldn't make him jumpy, but it's the best explanation we can come up with so… Jumpy it is." Garet clapped a hand on the girl's shoulder. "So, Jenna," he said. "Is today the day we get to meet your mystery roommate?"

"She's not a mystery roommate," replied Jenna. "Her name's Sheba and she's nice. A bit weird, but nice." Garet and Isaac exchanged smirks, and Garet chuckled. "I'm serious. I'm hoping we four can become good friends." Jenna led them to a dormitory labeled Venser Hall, then up three flights of stairs and down a hall. She pushed open the door, which was propped open by a doorstop. "Hey, Sheba!"

Sitting on the sole futon that occupied the room was a girl, average height, blonde hair in a bowl cut, who looked up from the book she was reading — a course book for Chemistry 101. Sheba quickly set the heavy tome aside and waved hello. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and was wearing a smirk the size of Texas. "How's it going, jenna?"

"Oh, good. These're Isaac and Garet. Isaac's the short one." Jenna winked; compared to Garet, most of the football team was short.

Garet's hand dwarfed Sheba's as he shook it. "Nice to meet you," he said. "Garet Carbone, mayor's grandson." He sniffed the air slightly; something about her seemed off in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Isaac von Steinfaust, I keep these two in line." Isaac shook her hand, rubbing his eyes a little. She seemed a bit "off" to him as well, though he couldn't put his finger on it. It was a different kind of "off" than Felix felt lately, not so much distant as… well, he wasn't sure what. Isaac looked for a moment at Jenna, then at Garet and Sheba. He smiled a little at Jenna. "Jen, I was wondering… If you're not doing anything…"

Jenna pursed her lips and looked at Sheba. "Sheebs, don't let Garet break anything." Garets and Isaac's eyes connected for a moment, and Garet knew what Isaac wanted him to do. Truth be told, it was something Garet wanted to do as well. The cute eyes, the purple eyebrows — such an unusual color, compared to her hair, had to be dyed — the earrings and that strange look in her eyes… Garet wanted to know more. And Isaac taking Jenna away would be… wait.

"Wait," said Garet, "you're leaving us alone together?"

Isaac laughed. "You may be impulsive, Garet, but you're not fooling anyone if you think you're that impulsive." Isaac's words carried a hidden tone, one that suggested if danger came, Garet could handle himself. And with that, Isaac and Jenna left the room.

***

"Isaac, I swear to God. I get a new roommate and you have Garet check her out? Do you remember Andrea?"

"Hey," argued Isaac. "Garet knows better now. He doesn't clown around as much."

"Yeah, I just wish he wouldn't wind up shagging every single roommate I have, ever had, or ever will have." Isaac smirked.

"Sometimes I wonder if that's his job, banging Jen's roomies." Jenna hit him playfully. "It was only a joke. Anyway. I was wondering, if you were free, would you like to grab lunch? Just the two of us?" Jenna sighed.

"Hang on, just lemme tell Sheba something." Jenna leaned in the door. "Hey, Sheba!" she shouted. "Don't let Garet trick you into sex!" Sheba rolled her eyes.

"I'll be fine, Jen."

Jenna nodded and closed the door, then smiled at Isaac. "Well, where are we headed?"

"I thought maybe we'd take a trip to Vaulten, there's a restaurant that old Mr. Kraden recommended."

"Mr. Kraden… You mean our old high school history teacher? The one who was wounded in Korea?"

"Yeah," said Isaac. "Him. He says we can get a nice romantic lunch there on the cheap!"

"Ooh," said Jenna. "Romantic lunch?"

"Hey, since when has old man Kraden ever let us down?"

"…Never," admitted Jenna. "So… Let's go?" Isaac nodded. "We taking your bike?"

"Nah, I managed to get Dad's car." Jenna grinned.

"Well then," she said, "let's get a move on!"

***

Garet's ear twitched as Sheba looked at him. Off or not, he had to admit that she was kinda cute, and would probably be his type — actual type, not just "fling" type. "So what's the white streak for? Mourning a grandparent?"

"Nah," said Garet. "It's a religious thing, you wouldn't get it."

"Ah, cool," said Sheba. "That actually sounds kinda exciting." She looked him up and down. "Jenna says you have a dog? Or rather, you claim to have a dog that she thinks is Isaac's?"

"Yeah," said Garet. "He's really mine, quite friendly, about the size of a mastiff. Isaac sometimes takes him for walks."

"So he's a mastiff."

"Nah," said Garet. "He's part wolf and I'm not quite sure what the other part is, some kind of mutt." Sheba smirked. "We never got him tested. Afraid of needles, the big sissy."

"Ha, I bet you're afraid of needles too," said Shea.

"A-am not," said Garet. "Anyway. That's not important. My dog, let's talk more about him."

"Nah. I like dogs, but I'd rather meet your dog than hear about him," said Sheba. Garet smirked. "So did you read the paper? Full moon tonight, supposed to be some weird spooky stuff happening." Garet laughed. "I'm serious! There's this big article on the full moon!"

"Probably the student newspaper trying to make a big name for themselves on a slow news day. They always talk about weird things happening and then never actually find anything weird on nights like tonight, slow news nights with full moons or solstices or shit like that," said Garet. "It's nothing big."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, though," she said. "I think it's kinda cool. Like a Weekly World News that seriously believes in Bat Boy." Garet chuckled. "Maybe we could do something weird, just to get their hopes up, then show it off as a hoax!" Garet laughed at her suggestion. "I'm serious!" said Sheba.

"Like what?" asked Garet. "Paint ourselves red and perform voodoo on the Chicken God with KFC?"

"Why not?" asked Sheba, laughing a little.

"All right," said Garet, grinning. "You get the KFC. I'm gonna make us both matching tartans. You decide what we say, I'll repeat you." Sheba grinned at his proclamation.

"And if I say something really weird?"

"I'll do my best," said Garet. Sheba laughed.

***

On the flight from New York, Ivan and Mia were separated. This didn't make Ivan happy. Ivan was seated next to some strange Chinese woman, and Mia was somewhere on the plane — Ivan knew it was a few rows back but couldn't remember the number. It was all very irritating.

Mia, meanwhile, was deep in conversation with the man next to her, a blue-haired Frenchman who was apparently headed to Minneapolis for a business convention. He seemed a bit young, but he displayed incredible skill with Russian, and also seemed to know more than he let on. Mia wished Ivan were here to talk to him, but such was life. "So who do you work for?" she asked. "Are you a big name firm?"

"Somewhat big," replied the young man, who'd given his name as Pierre Picard. "Atlantis Shipping and Trade, you might have heard of us." Mia's eyes widened; apart from the Hammet Consortium, they were probably the biggest name in shipping in the modern world, and had roots going back hundreds of years. "I'm one of the younger representatives, sent to give the company a newer image at the business convention."

"How exciting," said Mia. "So what goes on at a business conference?" Pierre smiled enigmatically.

"Oh, many things. For instance, as a member of my company's international branch, I'll likely be talking with representatives from other countries." Unfortunately, he was cut off by a loud string of what Mia assumed were Chinese expletives from the man behind them. That was when Pierre turned around and started yelling at the man in nearly accentless Mandarin. The two traded words, slowly calming down, and then Pierre turned back to Mia and said, picking Russian back up as though he'd never left the language, "My apologies. Inconsiderate idiots trying to use their cell phones mid-flight, despite regulations." He smiled. "At any rate, one of the reasons I was promoted so quickly was because of my gift with languages." But when pressed further on the promotion issue, he just smiled his enigmatic smile and gently shifted the conversation.

And Mia could tell that this would be the end of that line of questioning. She frowned slightly. "So… if you work for Atlantis, why are you flying coach?"

"My bosses," he replied, "are notoriously stingy in the financial world. You could ask young Master Hammet up there; I'm not sure why Jean Hammet is flying coach, but I assume he has a good reason."

"Er… yes, I'm sure he does," replied Mia. She was thankful when the airplane's snack cart came by; it gave her an excuse to get something to eat, thus keeping her from blowing their cover. She should have suspected that this Picard person would recognize Ivan; he may not have been all that famous outside of Europe, but she was fairly certain that someone in the financial industry would recognize the scion of one of the trade world's giants. Mia quickly ordered a bag of pretzels and began eating them slowly.

"So, Mia, I assume from your dialect that you're from Eastern Russia?"

"Da," she said, over a mouthful of pretzel. "But I spent a large portion of my life in Nice."

"Ah, parlez-vous Français?" he asked. Here, his Norman accent came in thick and strong, as though it had been waiting for a chance to show off.

"Un petit peu, monsieur. Je prefère la russe." She spoke with a thick Russian accent, and Piers smiled.

"Ah, right, my apologies," he said, returning to Russian. "Of course you would be more comfortable speaking your home language."

She smiled and nodded.

***

At a cafe in Aleph's Vale, two people were sitting outside watching the snowfall. "Autumn's almost up," said one of them, a man in his mid-thirties with blue hair in a half-shaved punk-ish hairstyle. He had a very large sword at his side, and a look in his eye that said anyone who questioned it would be in for the ass-whupping of a lifetime. Plus, if the police asked, he had a permit for the damned thing. Measuring by eye, it was probably about five feet long on its blade alone and had to weigh at least six pounds. He stared pensively into his coffee. "I imagine the Winter King will want to gather us all again."

"Yes," replied his companion. She was about the same age as he, her blond hair long and held via hairspray in an elaborate design. She had no weapon in immediate display, but her nails were quite sharp and seemed sturdier than most people's. Her face was pale, with red marks that looked like unusual makeup under her eyes. "I wish he would just declare it to happen the day of the changeover already, though. Instead of a meeting on the Equinox. Who the hell stays in Aleph's Vale on the Equinox?"

"Many people, I imagine," said the man. "And, most importantly, all of us. I've a feeling the young King knows us better than we know ourselves, Menardi."

"If you say so," she replied, sipping her own coffee, which (at her request) had had several crushed coffee beans mixed in, and to which she had added something of her own — a dash of tabasco. "I just wish I could figure out why Agatio never attends. Do you understand it at all, Saturos?"

"He has a disdain for Winter's commands," said Saturos, taking another sip of his coffee, which he had infused with a great deal of sugar. The bitter-sweet taste excited his taste buds. "And with good reason. He seems to believe that the Onyx Court would lead us to folly, and I can't say I blame him. From what I've heard, Winter left a distinctly unfavorable impression on him."

"Hm. True, although at times he seems so eager to cause fear I'm not sure why he isn't in Autumn's hallowed grasp. Then again, I'm not sure he's smart enough to realize he's causing fear." Menardi finished off her coffee and looked longingly at the biscotti near the register. "Once you've finished, I think we should be going."

"Yes," agreed Saturos. "On this we agree. …And by the way, Menardi?"

"Yes, Saturos?"

"Let Agatio know that his presence will be required or I shall hunt him down personally." He finished his drink. "I would do it myself, but today is a day of practice for me."

"Understood," said Menardi. "Practice well, Saturos."

"Well shall I practice," he said quietly.

***

As the plane took off from Minneapolis/St. Paul to Aleph's Vale, a man in the terminal opened his cell phone. "Mr. CEO?" asked Alois Picard, his French slipping into a dialect that hadn't been used for over six hundred years as a living language.

"Yes, Alois? What is it?" Picard smiled.

"I believe I have some interesting news. I have found Jean Hammet. He is on a flight to a small town in Minnesota, in the United States."

"The United States, you say?" asked the man on the other end. Picard nodded. "Very well then, Alois. Once this conference is over, I urge you to seek out young Hammet to determine why he is in Aleph's Vale, if he is still there, and if he is not, why he went there."

"Understood, Mr. CEO. I ask permission to take my leave of this conversation."

"Permission to take leave granted." Picard hung up and placed the cell phone in his pocket before strolling with his carry-on to the baggage pickup. He was glad Northwest didn't have problems with baggage handling yet, unlike so many other major airlines. Within a few moments, his bags were unloaded from the plane and he had them in hand, and was in a shuttle to his hotel.

***

Ivan and Mia had the fortune to be seated next to each other on the tiny flight into Aleph's Vale. The plane was small enough that every seat was practically Coach; the only exception was the front row, which Ivan had bought two tickets in. "Did you manage to get in touch with them?" asked Ivan. Mia frowned.

"After a fashion," she said. "But all they said was that we would receive our instructions upon reaching Aleph's Vale." She sighed. "I'm not sure what he meant by that."

"Well, hopefully it won't be too complicated." Ivan looked over the pamphlet he'd gotten from the Mysterium. "Says here that Mysterium Necromancers ought to be on their guard there. I guess we're fortunate neither of us is a necromancer." Mia nodded. "Hm. It seems to be a fairly normal town. Why would we be sent here? Unless… maybe a Seer Pylon has been unearthed?"

"If it were that," replied Mia, "they wouldn't send us, would they?"

"We have experience with them," replied Ivan. "Even if we didn't fight, I think they consider us to be a valuable resource."

"Maybe it's a negotiation of some kind?"

"The grand caucus is getting involved. I doubt it's anything but the most serious of circumstances."

"Well, do we at least have instructions for where to go?"

"Yes… to the University. Something about a Lewis School of the Arts."

***

"We're going to have to thank him for recommending this place to us," said Isaac around a mouthful of a spicy gyro. "It's a cool place, this is."

"Mediterranean deli. I didn't realize Vaulten had one," said Jenna, taking a bite of her hummus. "But… this is really good."

"I know," said Isaac. "And I know there's at least some greeks and turks in this area. I saw a gyro cart last time I came here, not sure where it is now."

"A gyro cart? You can't be serious."

"I am! It was run by some orange-haired guy that looked like a shorter bearded Garet!"

"Now I've heard everything," said Jenna, laughing. "A short bearded Garet?"

"Hey, if the description fits…" Isaac took another bite. "Anyway, I've seen the guy with Mr. Kraden's son."

"Ooh, you mean Sean?" Isaac mumbled something. "Oh, come on, there's no need to be jealous," said Jenna. "It's not like I'm into him that way. I just think he's an interesting guy."

"Yeah, I suppose," said Isaac. He looked at the TV hanging in a corner. "Is a score of two to one a good game in soccer?"

"Why're you asking me? Garet's the one to ask about sports."

"Garet's not here and his texts are indecipherable. Besides, he doesn't know soccer."

"Maybe that should've been your first point," joked Jenna, taking a bite of the kebab she'd ordered. "Anyway, why me? Do I look like I'd know anything about soccer?"

"More than Garet would," replied Isaac, finishing off his gyro with a grin.

"Somehow I doubt that," said Jenna, finishing off her meal. She and Isaac put their plates in a small dish tub that was set out for just that purpose and headed out to the car. "So why did your Dad let you have the car?"

"He said he figured I could have it for the day. Said he wasn't going to be going anywhere, and neither was Mom." Isaac closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Really don't want to think about it." Jenna just giggled.

***

The plane touched down at five in the afternoon. By five-thirty, Ivan and Mia were in downtown Aleph's Vale with two members of the local Mysterium, a pair of elderly gentlemen, who'd named themselves as Vladislav and Holcombe, were eating lunch with them. "As you are aware," said Vladislav, "the Mysterium's brought you to Aleph's Vale. The reason is simple and sinister. We believe that the local branch of the Free Council has been infiltrated by a Seer pylon. Unfortunately, due to… faling-outs we've had with them, we're in no position to warn them. We figured if you could get close to one of the more crucial members, onvince him of the Seer presence…"

"Done and done," said Ivan. "What's he called?"

"In the official records," said Holcombe, "he's called Megiddo. We have a photograph of him, but we don't know his true name. It'll be up to you to befirend and convince him."

"I understand," said Ivan. "Mia and I will work on that."

"She's fairly quiet… Does she speak English?"

"Only somewhat; she understands just fine, but she prefers her native language. La russe."

Mia frowned slightly as Vladislav muttered something about "goddamn russkies" and "lame-ass tyrants". "All right," he said at full volume. "We'll take care of your tab, and your hotel rooms are paid for. You'll be staying at the Mariott, suite twelve eighteen."

"It's a very nice place," added Holcombe. "Quality accommodations." The tone in his words indicated that it was a safe place to practice magic, and Ivan and Mia guessed that the Mysterium had bought the suite from the hotel some time ago.

***

Agatio sneered at the sniveling coward in front of him. Ashardalon was a dragon, or should have been; his scaly face and arms gave that much away. And his yellow eyes had slit pupils, and there were probably several other signs but right now Agatio couldn't even bother himself to lift up the man by that idiotic rag he called a head of hair. It looked like a toupee, and a badly-made one at that. If the tall, ogrish man had to guess, he'd say it was full of lice. "Please, please, Agatio. They're gonna condemn me to death, you've gotta help me." Agatio frowned.

"Unfortunately," he said, pulling a small knife from his pocket, "they've already figured out who you are, and they've spent months gathering evidence. And it's so amazingly compelling. It's like they actually saw you drag those kids into the Hedge."

"I never dragged no new kids off to the Gentry," stammered Ashardalon. "You know that, Agatio!"

"I know that," said the ogre, grinning halfway. "And you know that. But the rest of the freehold thinks it's you, not me. I figure I can lay off for a little while."

Ashardalon blanched. "Y-you mean… I'm going to…"

"Yes. I hear the Winter King has even prepared Tectrix for the occasion."

"You…" Ashardalon was sweating like a pig, which Agatio was willing to guess didn't feel too good in this weather. "If I'm gonna die, I'm calling you out before I go," he said, the last of his courage going into his voice. "And you know what the Winter King thinks of you!"

"Yes, I do," said Agatio, smiling. "And you're right. If you told him, I'd probably be dead. But," said Agatio, his grin darkened and thin, "you're not going to tell him. Would you like to know why, Allen?" Ashardalon blanched. Agatio was fairly certain this was the first time he'd heard his name, his real name, spoken out loud in a long time. "Because I'm going to kill you tonight, without incident. Police will find a dead body, of course. A man who went missing years ago." Agatio put on a pair of surgical scrubs.

"They won't find the murderer, either. Oh, some poor mortal bastard who used to have a connection to you will be suspected and tried, and the cops will probably pin the evidence on him." The knife flashed quickly, slicing hard into Ashardalon's neck. "And then he'll be given a chance to defend himself, a chance he'll bungle. But hey, at least he'll be able to see you in the afterlife." A few more quick stabs, and the other man was bleeding out on the cold hard ground. "Oh, wait… You won't be there, will you?" With the handle and blade wiped clean, Agatio knew there was no chance of the police discovering that he was the one who did it. He tossed the knife into the poorly-paved back-alley that served as the killing ground.

"Well, now to find the Winter King and tell him what I did… after all, 'tis better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission…" Agatio whistled a jaunty little tune as he left the alleyway.

An hour later, a woman would scream and the police would show up to investigate a murder scene.


	2. A Not-So-Typical Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations are underway. Spies are on the move. That's... about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side note, there are going to be several cameos coming up. A lot of them are literary, film, and video games characters. I particularly like the one coming up in chapter 4, if only because the game he's from is quite fun, even if he's not exactly a main character.

**Chapter Two: A Not-So-Typical Afternoon**

Felix looked down at the ogrish brute of a man that stood before him. Karst, as usual, was standing next to her boyfriend. To Felix and Karst’s eyes, the man before them had skin of granite, hair that cracked his scalp along his hairline and probably under it like a bad case of dandruff, and a thick, barely restrained musculature bulging against his pallid skin. “Agatio of Summer, why did you kill this man Ashardalon of Spring?” he asked. Felix’s voice was weary.

Agatio shrugged. “It was mostly on account o’ how he’d been fightin’ on their side th’ whole damned time, an’ once word got to me I thought I’d — “

“But how did word get to you?” asked Felix. “The decision and evidence were sealed to the Monarchs and their Guards.”

“Saturos was sick that day,” responded Agatio, his face plaintive as he gave the Winter King a small smirk. “So I stood in his place, didn’t Puelle tell ya?”

“I see.” Felix rubbed his temples. “You know, ogre, I have a sneaking suspicion that you’re smarter than your voice suggests.”

“Hey. Don’t call me ‘ogre’, soldier boy. Unless ya want ta see what a real ogre looks like…”

“Fine then, Agatio of Summer. Ashardalon of Spring was to be executed for his crimes, but as Tectrix need not be removed now…” Felix sighed. “You may leave.” As soon as Agatio had left the room, he turned to Karst. “You know, we’ll have to inform Hama… she had given me permission to execute the sentence, but Agatio had no such permission.” He frowned, a pensive cast falling over his features. “Tell me, was he really there?”

“I’m not sure. I did see Saturos, so he’s lying about replacing him… but it’s equally possible that he was there at the request of Lord Briggs.”

“Hm. The Autumn King does seem like the kind to invite Agatio as a personal guest, but if that were the case, why wouldn’t he announce him…”

“A good question,” said Karst. “But the Autumn King is transferring power to you soon. I trust he’ll explain then.”

“I hope so,” muttered Felix. “In the meantime… I think I’ll go and see what Isaac’s up to. He’s usually on campus around this time of day…”

“I’ll go speak with my sister. Perhaps she’ll give some information.” Felix nodded. “Farewell, Felix. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Until tonight, then,” said the Winter King, standing up and heading to a private room where he would change clothes from the stuffy and out-of-place formal dress.

***

“Yeah, I’d like three buckets, two of extra crispy, one white one dark, and a bucket of original recipe, all dark meat.” Garet fished in his pocket for the wallet as the bored-looking KFC employee punched in the order.

“And for your sides?”

“Um… surprise me,” said Garet. He shrugged; it wasn’t like he had any specific desires, side-wise. The KFC employee sighed. “And to drink,… hang on.” Garet pulled his cell phone out of his other pocket and dialed the number Sheba had given him. He waited patiently as it rang a couple times.

“Hi, this is Sheba,” came her voice. Garet smiled.

“Hey, Sheba, it’s Garet. Listen, I’m at KFC right now, whaddya want to drink?”

“Wasn’t I supposed to get the chicken?”

“…er. Right. Forgot. Well, change of plans?” Sheba sighed.

“All right. I’ll go get the face paint, then. But you’re still making the tartans.”

“Deal. So what do you want to drink?”

“…Isn’t the soda at the desk cheaper than anywhere else in town?”

“Yeah, but you can’t get a 32 ounce coke there.” Sheba giggled.

“Well,” she said, “you can get your coke and I’ll just grab something from the front desk when I get thirsty.”

“All right,” said Garet. “See ya soon.” After hanging up, he said, “One drink. Biggest size you got.” A 64 oz behemoth of a plastic cup was placed in front of Garet. The cashier’s expression seemed a little bit more peeved. “How much do I owe ya?”

“Thirty-four fifty-seven,” said the cashier, and Garet handed him a credit card. “Right, just waiting for it to clear….” The register beeped and the cashier handed back Garet’s card. “Thank you have a nice day.” The words were rote and unemotional. “Your order will be right out.”

“Thanks,” said Garet, smiling as he pocketed his wallet. He sat down on a chair provided for waiting and drummed his fingers on his knee. If only Sheba were here, he thought, we could probably talk a bit about stuff, instead of me waiting around for the food all by my —

“I think of all the education that I’ve missed! But then, my homework was never quite like this! I got it bad, got it bad, got it bad~ I’m hot for teacher! I got it bad, so bad, I’m hot for teacher!” Garet quickly answered his phone. “Yeah hi?”

“Hey, bro,” came the voice of his older sister. “Dad says he wants you to help her with a project tonight.” Garet groaned. “Hey, I told him if he needed someone to help he just had to ask me, but I guess he wants your gut. Probably wants to try cooking again.”

“Y-yeah,” said Garet. “Look… tell Dad I’m gonna be busy making the school paper look like a bunch of idiots, ‘kay?”

“I can already tell you what he’ll say…”

Garet sighed; did she really need his help now? “Then… can you put him on the line?”

“I’m not paying to patch Dad in. Call him yourself.” Garet facepalmed. Of course. She was out. Although why Dad hadn’t called him…

“I thought you’d be at home, why else would you have a message from Dad?”

“He said he tried to call you but your phone was busy. Call him yourself!” Kay hung up. Garet scowled almost as deeply as the cashier wanted to, judging by the man’s fixed smile. Sighing, he punched in his family’s home phone number as he grabbed the three buckets of chicken.

“Hello, Tosto residence.” The voice was male, and by the sound of it whoever it was was definitely no adult.

“Hey, runt. Put Dad on.”

“You going to tell him about Felix this time?”

“No,” said Garet. “Felix is just having a bad day. Week.”

“No, I mean the other Felix, the one I saw at the park while I was walking Champion!”

“Look, I don’t know what Megan and Justin have been telling you, but that guy wasn’t Felix.” Garet placed the chicken on the hood of his car. “Listen, Aaron, we can discuss it later. Can you just put Dad on the phone?”

“Fine, fine.” Aaron called “Dad! Phone!” loud enough for Garet to still pick it up over the receiver. He heard another phone pick up.

“Ricard Tosto.”

“Hey, Dad. Look, what did you need me for tonight?”

“Well, Charlie’s out of town and I need someone else to watch over Aaron tonight, because the pack is going to be — “

“Dad, Aaron’s not going to change like I did. And besides, Kay can handle him even if he goes war-form.”

“You have that much faith in your sister?” A faint note of surprise had crept into Garet’s father’s voice.

“She can lay me out with a punch. Yes, I have that much faith in my sister.”

“I suppose… Fine. I’ll just have to call Kaylee and tell her. I’ll talk to you later, Garet. And I expect to see you at the dinner on Sunday.”

“You will, you will, don’t worry. Later, Dad.” Garet hung up. “At least tonight’ll be fun. Dancing around a bonfire shouting nonsense gibberish is always fun.”

***

Ivan sighed. “Do all Americans drive like madmen?” he asked Mia, the language of their conversation having turned again to Russian. “I swear, they drive as fast as Germans, but they use absolutely no road signals! Mon dieu…”

“Ivan… Do you know anything about Atlantis Shipping and Trade?”

“Atlantis? Who doesn’t know them?” asked Ivan, pulling onto the main street of Aleph’s Vale in hopes of finding the university quickly. “They almost rival father’s company. Why do you ask?”

“On the flight from New York, I sat next to one of their representatives, a man who spoke fluent Russian. He spoke it almost as well as you do.” Ivan’s brows rose. “Said his name was… um… Picard. Piers Picard.”

Ivan turned and looked at her briefly before turning his attention back o the road. “Piers Picard? That last name… that’s a rather influential family in the company. …He recognized me, didn’t he?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He was curious as to why you were flying coach.”

“The same reason he flies coach, I’m willing to bet. Fewer people recognize you in a part of the plane that isn’t mostly populated by businessmen and investors.”

“No,” said Mia, unfolding a street map and looking it over. “It was because his superiors are apparently stingy bastards.”

“Your words or his?” asked Ivan, smirking slightly as he turned onto McClellan Avenue, following the signs leading to the University.

“Paraphrase of what he said,” replied Mia, looking at the map. “Which one are we on again?”

“McClellan. You able to find it OK?”

“Yeah… You’re going to want to turn left onto Arbor Drive, it’s the one that leads to the university.”

“Left or right? I mean, we’re headed away from Oak Street, if that changes anything…”

“No,” replied Mia. “Left on Arbor Drive. Then,” she said, folding the map up, “continue until you hit Pryce Avenue. That’ll be our destination.”

Ivan nodded, turning onto Arbor Drive as indicated. “And after that we would need a campus map. I assume they’re easy enough to find at a visitor’s center…”

“Probably,” agreed Mia. “And then on to the Lewis School of the Arts.” She sighed. “I wonder what we’ll find there.” Ivan shrugged.

“Probably nothing, by the time we arrive. Unless the Free Council meets there for some asinine reason.”

“Well,” replied Mia, “they could be a college interest group.” Ivan pouted and looked at her.

“You’re not allowed to be smarter than me anym—” He slammed on the brakes as someone cut him off, slowing down to a snail’s pace. “MERDE! VOUS DAMNÉS CRÉTIN! Je jure devant Dieu…” He continued mumbling at the car in front of them.

“Um… maybe I should drive next time,” said Mia cautiously. “It might wind up better for us… or at least for your temper.” Ivan didn’t seem to hear her as he irritably turned onto Pryce Avenue, entering the university’s visitor parking. “Ivan?”

“…da.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Mia. I just… Americans do not know how to drive, and they ought to stay off the roads until they learn!” Mia laughed as he unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door with much more force than was necessary.”But enough about that. We need to find our mark. Which may be difficult. Megiddo could be anyone. We need to stay alert.”

Mia nodded, taking a map from a nearby dispenser. “There’s the Lewis School of Arts, fairly close.” Ivan nodded. “Perhaps we can find out if organizations use it as a meeting-ground.”

***

“Seeing a guy sew is the most hilarious thing,” said Sheba. “How’d you get so good at it?” Garet shrugged.

“Well, Gramps has some ritual stuff, and that needs to be patched sometimes, and sometimes we have to fix our clothes because they get ripped…. I know Mrs. von Steinfaust’s had me patch at least three ritual dresses up for her.” Garet sewed the last few seams on his kilt. “OK, that’s me done. Now… um… for yours.” He blushed slightly. “You have your measurements, right?” She handed him a sheet of paper with the numbers he needed, and he nodded. “Great.”

Sheba giggled again. “Man, Jen was warning me that you’d be all over me. What gives, huh? Not going to paw up the roommate anymore?” Garet swallowed nervously.

“Well… I mean… Look, I think you’re pretty cute, but Jen would skin me alive if she saw you and me doing the horizontal tango, or any signs of it having happened. And Jen’s an expert at seeing through shit like that." Garet continued sewing. "I mean, hell, you're cute, and I'd suggest we get coffee sometime, but coffee here might be a real bad idea for Garet's health." Sheba laughed.

"Yeah, being skinned alive doesn't sound too fun.” She grinned at him. “So I have to ask, being so curious and all. Have you really slept with all of Jen’s roommates so far?” Garet pouted and frowned. “C’mon. Please? I promise I won’t call you a manwhore if you tell me.”

“Jen calls me that anyways,” muttered Garet. “Still. First there was Andrea, Jen’s first roommate, a junior, asked me to help her with her anatomy homework… Sarah Chase, not related to the bank, that was her rooommate for a whole year, never met a girl so desperate to get into my pants… Nadia, only here for a semester but damn was she hot… Jane — claimed she was a lesbian, but for some reason she wanted me like a dog wants bacon… and then before you she roomed with Danielle, who I didn’t sleep with because she was creepy. Seriously. I have never met someone so obsessed with blood and vampires and all that bullshit.” Gared shuddered.M

“…Wow. Almost every one of ‘em. But not this Danielle? Why not? Just because she was obsessed with death?”

“Obsessed with _vampires_ ,” corrected Garet. “And if I hadn’t seen her walking around during the day I would’ve mistaken her for one. I mean, seriously, she was creepy. And Jen thought so too. She spent most of that semester crashing at Isaac’s and my place. Said she woke up one night to Danielle standing over her bed.” Garet shook his head. “Anyway.”

“Eesh,” said Sheba. “Sounds like a creep to me.”

“Yeah.” Garet finished sewing up her tartan. “So what’re you going to be studying anyway?”

“Anthropology, with a focus on mourning rituals and perceptions of death. Stuff like that.”Garet smirked.

“Cool. I’m mostly here because the coach wanted a center who could act like a wall, but I’m also studying political science. I’m not the best, but… what can it hurt, right?”

“Sure, I see where you’re going.” Sheba leaned over to look at the finished product. “Oooh. Looks good. So we ready to eat?”

“I thought it was going to be a voodoo sacrifice.”

“We can work out the details later. Right now I’m hungry.”

***

Isaac and Jenna arrived back in town at about 4:30 PM. “I’ve got a meeting of the art club at five in Lewis Hall,” said Isaac, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve got to do some setup, so is it OK if I drop you off at your dorm?”

“No problem,” replied Jenna. “So… What’s the art club’s next presentation going to be? Are you ever going to coordinate with the theatre department?”

“We’ve been trying,” Isaac replied. “Not much else I can say about it, the other members aren’t too outgoing. We did get a new transfer student, though.”

“Yeah, you mentioned she was what, Chinese? How’s she doing?”

“She’s pretty cool. I bet you two will like each other. She’s got a lot of potential in the art world.”

Jenna giggled. “You sound like a talent agent. Well, thanks for lunch.” She kissed him lightly before getting out of the car. Isaac drove back to his parents’ house, fiddling with the radio as he did. For some reason it didn’t pick up the usual stations; they were all apparently reruns of the ‘80s. The only reason he’d known that, though, was because the news radio kept mentioning “President Reagan”. Still, it was his dad’s car, and the one he loved.

By the time he got back to Lewis Hall, it was ten to five. “OK. Time for setup…” He moved up to room 306, pulled a key from his pocket, and unlocked the door. He didn’t notice the two people who’d followed him up the stairs. “All right. Now then…” Walking into the room, he grabbed the chalk and began writing on the chalkboard. “Hrm… People ought to be arriving soon.”

***

Ivan and Mia exchanged glances. This was probably Megiddo. But if that was the case, then they shouldn’t approach him here. Two agents of the Mysterium following someone who was already wary of their organization wouldn’t be a good idea. Perhaps they could find him in the university records. Mia shot a glance at Ivan. Ivan sighed as the two of them went off into a side hallway.

“What is it, Mia?” he asked, once they were a safe distance away. “Do you have an idea on how to get close to him?” Mia grinned.

“Indeed. Perhaps I could pretend to be unaligned and interested in joining… I am sure our Seer has done something much the same. Besides,” she added, her grin widening, “who could resist such a beautiful Russian woman asking to join their organization?”

“Well, not me,” admitted Ivan. “Still… I think we had better consult with the elders before we attempt such a plan. It’s a shame you left Chernichka at the suite. We could have used her to spy.”

“She’s a cat spirit,” Mia reminded him. “She still needs time to adjust.” Mia sighed. “Once this is over, I may just move to this town. It seems so quiet and peaceful.”

Ivan nodded. “I agree,” he said, moving to the stairs. “We’ll see if he puts wards up. He’ll probably defend it against Scrying, since an unhealthy disdain for the Guardians is common, but…” Ivan shrugged. “Can’t say I blame them entirely.”

“Yes, yes, we’re all aware of your perspective, Mr. ‘The Guardians are necessary I guess but do they have to burn books?’ …Not that I don’t agree with you, although I’m willing to bet the older mages like them.” Mia sighed. “At any rate, should we just wait outside?”

“That was my plan,” said Ivan. “Sit there, wait until Megiddo is done, then try and talk to him afterwards.” He paused for a moment. “…hrm. If only he didn’t hate the Mysterium, we could just walk up to him.”

“But we can’t,” said Mia, “and wishes don’t get bridges built. So let’s wait outside, plan our next move and such.” Mia glanced in the room one last time before moving to drag Ivan away. “A shame, really. He seems like a nice person. If we could convince him of our good intentions…”

“Weren’t you just saying something about wishes?” joked Ivan. “Now come on. Let’s see what we can find outside.”

***

Five PM came, and the Magi of the Free Council, about twenty all told, were packed in the small room. Isaac knew them all by now, from his mentor (who also happened to be his best friend’s mother) to the teenagers sitting in on the meeting. And there in the front was their most eager new recruit, who had apparently come all the way from China a few months ago. Feizhi certainly didn’t speak English well, that much Isaac knew.

“Well, let’s begin. Lucosa, any new Consilium developments?” Garet’s mother shook her head.

“Sorry, kid. Er, Megiddo. They’re still in deadlock and I’m still waiting for discussion on the new measure to begin. Which isn’t going to happen until the debate’s finished. I’m not sure how much more the Arrow and the Guardians can yell at each other, though. Hopefully not much longer.” Isaac nodded.

“All right, thanks, teach.” He turned to a man sitting in the front with long black hair, barely older than Isaac, whose clothes and manner of sitting gave the distinct impression that he was high. “Jude, anything new to report?” Jude shook his head, eyes closed and leaning back. He coughed a couple times. “You still trying to figure out where and when the Guardians are going to do their next book-burning so we can rescue things?” Jude nodded.

“It’s coming along all right,” he said, in a voice much less stoned than one would have expected. “Anton managed to sneak into their meeting area. They’re planning on burning a lot of stuff, including the diaries of Tret and Laurel.” He scratched his nose. “Haven’t gotten their hands on them yet, of course. You, ah, may want to have whoever’s keeping an eye on them tighten up the wards.” He grinned. “Now if only I could convince Anton to come to meetings.”

“I told you, Jude, the building has rules about animals. Namely, they catch wind of one in here, and we’re out.” Isaac nodded to the Chinese girl in front. “Feizhi, you’re up next. You said something about a Banisher plot you’ve uncovered?”

The purple-haired girl smiled a little as she stood up. “Yes. Let me tell you what I have found out.”

***

Jen was back and watching the two of them like a hawk. Garet didn’t appear to mind, but Sheba chafed under her roommate’s gaze. “Jen, getting awkward, we haven’t even done anything.” She kept the “yet” to herself. No need to let her desires get the best of her. Ol’ Sparky mumbled something behind her, but she wrote something on the bucket’s bottom in their code. Sparky would know what it meant.

“Fine,” she heard his voice crackle, “but we talk about it later. I definitely sense something in here. Something angry and violent.”

Sheba ignored the voice and focused on Jenna’s response. “Sometimes ‘nothing’ is all it takes for something to happen. Especially when Garet gets involved.” She glared at him. “It’s like he’s made it his mission to sleep with all my roommates.”

“No! It just happens! Except Danielle. Creepy creeper was creepy.” Jenna sighed. “And besides,” added Garet, “I haven’t tried anything yet with Sheba. We’re actually doing what she says. Chicken God Voodoo with the bones from KFC. We’re gonna go outside Lewis Hall and do the ‘summoning ritual’ close to midnight.” He grinned. “It’s gonna be a blast.”

Jenna sighed. “You do realize the school paper is going to find out and cover it like you’re a bunch of werewolves or something, right?” Garet laughed.

“Pfff. C’mon, as if there’s such a thing as werewolves. And even if they did exist, they’d be going all hairy tonight.” He plodded over to Jenna’s futon (which was usually Isaac’s designated sleeping place when he slept over) and sat down gingerly. He’d broken the last one from sitting down too hard, and he wasn’t about to make that mistake again. Leaning back, he said, “So what about Isaac? Is he still getting a lecture from his dad about taking his girlfriend all the way to Vaulten?”

“He’s at an art club meeting, you should know that, he always has them the first Saturday of the month.”

“Oh. Right.” Garet scratched behind an ear. “Forgot that.” He glanced out the window. “Tonight’s gonna be a beautiful night. You want to join us?”

“No thanks. Isaac’s planning on stopping by once art club stuff is finished.” Jenna looked over at Sheba. “You’ve been kinda quiet, Sheebs. Any reason why?”

“Oh, just listening.” She neglected to mention that she’d also been wondering about Garet’s cleanliness. It wouldn’t do to let her roommate know that she’d been speculating about a few dates with her friend. “And anyway, didn’t you two already spend the afternoon together?”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t spend the evening together too,” rebutted Jenna. “Anyway, you and Garet are doing your all night thing. And I bet you called the school paper to get them out in front of Lewis Hall tonight.”

“Well, I… may have placed an anonymous tip on their hotline,” replied Sheba, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “What’s the harm in a little hoax, after all?” Jenna rolled her eyes at her roommate. “At least I’m not going to spend all night making out with my boyfriend.” Again, her mind added an “Even though I want to” on the end of that. Garet was intriguing. And this would be an excellent, if eccentric, first date.

Garet glanced at her, looking slightly crestfallen. “You’ve got a boyfriend?”

“No, haven’t really found a guy who’s interesting enough. Or fun enough.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “But enough about me. Let’s focus on tonight. Here’s your script.”

***

As the sun set and the people slowly filtered out of Lewis Hall, Feizhi began rooting around in her bag for her cell phone. Normally, she used magic to communicate, but she had been told to be more discreet this time. She flipped open the phone and pulled up a number on speed-dial. It rang for a couple minutes before someone picked up on the other end.

“This is Alex. How did the meeting go, youngling?” The voice on the other side spoke in Chinese but had a slight Russian accent, covered up with years of careful practice.

“I’m getting into his confidence. Did you send a Banisher to the region, sir?” She heard a soft chuckle on the other side of the phone. “Sir, I don’t want Megiddo to be killed by a Banisher. It would be a terrible loss.”

“Don’t worry, Feizhi.” She imagined him smirking. “This Banisher will pose no problem to Megiddo. Megiddo far outclasses him. But keep up the pressure. I want Megiddo’s true name. That would no doubt help me to get him onto our side.” He chuckled again. “In the meantime… keep up the good work, Feizhi.”

“I will, sir.” She closed her eyes and entered her car. “For the glory of the Exarchs.”

“May their reign become complete on Earth.” Alex hung up as Feizhi turned on the car, closing her phone.

“And hopefully, Megiddo will be alongside me when they do.” Out of the lot drove the young Chinese woman.

***

A tall, blue-haired man walked into the room. “And you say that Aleph’s Vale is situated on a major nexus?” asked a voice from the shadows. “Bold claims, Arcanus.”

“I have the evidence, my dear Empyror.” He handed the shadowed man a folder. “A report by one of the Seers of the Throne I have duped into my employ.” The shadowed man nodded.

“You’ve done well, Arcanus. And manipulating a Seer of the Throne… you may indeed be who you claim to be. I’m still surprised you know the lore.”

“Trionfus, there are _many_ things I know.” The blue-haired man smirked. “Tell the children hello for me.” He turned and left the room. The High Empyror of the Tuaparang Cabal looked over the information in the folder.

“…Send the Proximus children to Aleph’s Vale with an escort. The girl has a good sense for ley lines. We’ll see if Arcanus’s source is telling the truth.”


End file.
